Part 5 (1/2)

”Oh, they must be having some nice sour milk just now!” thought Squinty.

”How I wish I were back with them!”

And then, as he fancied he could smell the nice sour milk, which the farmer or his wife was pouring into the eating trough of the pen, Squinty just howled and squealed with hunger. Oh, what a noise he made!

Then this gave him an idea.

”Ha!” he exclaimed to himself, in a way pigs have, ”why didn't I think of that before? I must squeal for help. My mamma, or papa, may hear me and come for me.”

Then Squinty happened to think that the hole, by which he had gotten out of the pen, was not large enough for his fat papa or mamma to crawl through.

”No, they can't get out to come for me,” Squinty thought. ”They'll have to send Wuff-Wuff, or Squealer. And maybe they'll get lost, the same as I did. Oh dear, I guess I won't squeal any more. It's bad enough for me to be lost, without any of my brothers or sisters getting lost, too.”

So Squinty stopped squealing, and walked on and on between the rows of corn, trying to find his way home to the pen all by himself. Squinty was really quite a brave pig, wasn't he?

By this time, as you can well believe, Mr. and Mrs. Pig, in the pen, had awakened from their afternoon sleep. And all the little pigs had awakened too, for they were beginning to feel hungry again.

”Isn't it about time the farmer came with some sour milk for us?” asked Mr. Pig of Mrs. Pig.

”I think it is,” she said, looking up at the sun, for the sun is the only clock that pigs, and other animals, have. When they see the sun in the east, low down, they know it is morning. When it s.h.i.+nes directly over their heads, high in the sky, they know it is noon. And when the sun sinks down in the west the pigs know it is getting toward night, and supper time.

The sun was low down in the west now, and Mr. and Mrs. Pig knew it must be nearly time for their evening meal.

”Come, Wuff-Wuff. Come, Squealer. Come, Squinty, and all the rest of you!” called Mrs. Pig in her grunting voice. ”Come, get ready for supper. I think I hear the farmer coming with the nice sour milk!”

”Squee! Squee! Squee!” squealed all the little pigs, for they were very hungry indeed. ”Squee! Squee! Squee!”

They all made a rush to see who would get to the eating trough first.

Some of them even put their feet in, they were so anxious. Pigs are always that way. They know no better, so we must excuse them. If they had been taught not to do that, and then did it, we would not excuse them.

”Here comes the farmer with the sour milk,” grunted Mr. Pig. ”Oh, how good it smells!”

Just then Squealer cried:

”Why, where's Squinty?”

His brothers and sisters looked around.

Squinty, the comical pig, was not to be seen. But we know where he was, even if his mamma and papa and brothers and sisters did not. Squinty was in the cornfield, trying to find his way back to the pen.

”Why, where can Squinty be?” asked Mrs. Pig. ”Squinty! Squinty!” she called, grunting and squealing as she always did. ”Come to the trough!”

she went on. ”Supper is ready!”

But Squinty did not come. The farmer poured the sour milk down the slide, where it ran into the trough, and the little pigs began to eat.

But Mr. and Mrs. Pig began looking for Squinty. They turned up the straw, thinking he might be asleep under it. No Squinty was to be seen.

Then Mr. Pig saw the hole under the side boards of the pen.

”Ha!” exclaimed Mr. Pig, speaking to Mrs. Pig, ”I think perhaps Squinty went out there.”

”Oh, so he did!” said Mrs. Pig. ”What shall we do?”